Angels with Shotguns
by MetteGoingDutch
Summary: [following 2x06] Rachel wasn't fast enough with sharing the fact that she didn't kill Monroe. By the time she digs him up, Charlie has already left Willoughby. As Bass can't be seen anyway, he promises to get her back. But as the two get themselves caught up with the AWS, and others, their return to Willoughby shows more difficult, emotional, and bloody than expected.. please R
1. Chapter 1

So this chapter still takes place at the end of "Dead Man Walking" but has a different ending. The story will mostly follow Charlie and Bass as they try to figure out what to do with the situation they get themselves in. But also original characters and everyone else will come back.

I just want to say that for anyone thinking that Charlie and Bass become anything, not in this fanfic. I wouldn't hate it if it happened on the show but I find their age difference (Charlie is 20 and Bass is 45) too much. So if you are expecting "Charloe", their relationship will be complicated but more in a Charlie and Miles way than anything.

**disclaim: I do not own the show or rights to it in any way. Because if I did, there would be no way of it even being considered for cancelation! **(but sadly I don't have that say)]

I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think ! I love reading what you have to say

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**Chapter 1**

Charlotte Matheson had not forgiven the ruthless republic leader, Monroe. Neither had she forgotten that he was the underlying root for the death of her father and brother. Or the passing of Nora and Maggie. And every once in a while, it tugged at her thoughts that he had killed many people. Whether this was through war with Georgia, execution of the overflow prisoners, starvation of his unworthy people, or simply because someone didn't do their job properly. He was unreliable, untrustworthy, and above all, unmerciful.

The voice that would tell her that she shouldn't trust Monroe was the same as the voice who shouted at her when she looked in the mirror. Over the past year or so, she had grown up fast. She knew she had been naïve and young not long ago. The things she has seen and done seemed to stain her hands with blood. As if in an instant, her innocents was ripped away from her to a point where she didn't have to think twice before pulling the trigger. Being able to see this change in herself, she often gave Sebastian the benefit of the doubt. As he, just like her, had become cold and hard in a dark world.

Therefore, Monroe had become a lot of things. Especially with all the hardships he had experienced in such a short amount of time. But still, he wasn't all bad. He cared about most of the people in his Republic. Charlie had seen how much he cared for Emma. Not to mention, the many times now that he had risked his own skin to save her life. He was very much like Miles and Charlie, while her inner voice screamed against the thoughts, has to admit that Monroe was growing on her.

Sometimes, while random memories of her travels with Monroe popped into her mind, she would let a tiny smile appear at the corners of her mouth. The journey to New Vegas and Willoughby suddenly seeming only days ago. He had told stories of him and Miles as kids with glistering happiness in his eyes. They had joked, shared meals, and learned about each other's past. And as the doors of the justice hall swung open, she remembered the clear, starry night on which he had apologized. Sincerely and with painful regret flooding his soft voice.

Charlie could barely watch as his already beaten body was shoved through the hall. There was a moment where Monroe made himself regain his formal posture. He stood still. Turned to the girl who waited eagerly for him to say something. And took a deep breath.

Sebastian Monroe could say so much. However, when Charlie's eyes met his, he was at a loss. There was too much Miles in them. They shared too much resemblance to the pain he had caused in Rachel's. And sometimes he swore he could see Nora in her. Whose death he still had not forgiven himself for. "Look after your uncle, Kid," he finally managed to say. He let his eyes drop, hung his head, and walked his one-way route to the heavy wooden doors at the end.

Charlie's heart broke. The pieces that were still in tacked now shattered. They broke for Bass, but also for her uncle. Who had changed since Monroe arrived. He was more protective, caring and clear headed. He seemed to know where he stood. And although having issues with the idea of Monroe growing on Charlie, he knew he was an asset these days. No one knew Miles better than Sebastian. Maybe that was why Miles sat drinking at the bar while everyone else in Willoughby was urged out of the justice hall. Charlie wasn't the only one in town who wished she could do something as the bell chimed across the town square and into the vast oncoming dusk of nightfall. Signaling the end of the regime and life of Sebastian Monroe.

The teen let her feet carry her away from the scene. Almost everyone in town had slowly made their way back home, but she knew she was needed somewhere else. The door of the bar creaked. Miles looked up only to see his niece walking over the threshold. He sighed, knowing this was the end, it was really over.

The two had gotten to know each other well enough for Charlie to know he didn't want to talk. He wouldn't open up. Nor was she really needed there at that moment. But she let her hand fall on his shoulder for a moment. In response, he reached up. Cupped her hand in his. "I'm around. If you need me," Charlie offered with a small smile. Her uncle gave her a knowing nod before finishing his drink with a deep sigh, already lost in his memories again. Charlie knew deep down that Miles partly blamed himself for how Monroe had changed over the past years. He was someone Bass needed, and Miles choose to walk away from him. He hadn't suddenly died; he hadn't left for the better. Miles was guilt written for pushing Bass closer and closer to the edge.

She left Miles behind to drink his sorrows and thoughts away as she decided on a more physical release. Walking in circles. The idea of feeling sorry for Monroe made her angry. For months she was on the road to find him, to kill him. She had lost people dear to her just so she could get Danny back and make Monroe pay for taking him in the first place. She wanted to scream at her mixed thoughts. Most of all, she wanted someone to tell her she was being stupid. But the only person she wanted to hear that from was also the only other person in her tiny, messed up world, who would tell her she was allowed to give in to those feelings. So her comforting smile to Miles was a hint. That she understood what he was going through. Or at least to some extent. She'd hidden her anger. The desperation to scream.

Her feet carried her towards her grandfather's house. Up the stairs. And into her room. Blinded by the pain and frustration, the confusion and the anger, Charlie couldn't stop herself from packing. One thing she had learned over the past months was how to walk away. To get out when you can't take it anymore. Yet again, she needed space to figure it all out.

**[Flashback]**

"_Mom, we need him!" Charlie shouted._

"_Charlie, don't you dare. You already brought him here. You had time to kill him, and you didn't. Did you forget what he did? To your father; to Danny?" Rachel said sternly. Challenging her daughter to think before she said her next words. _

"_I let you back into my life. You walked away from us, from Dad and Danny. And when I was about to die, there was one person who busted down the door! Sebastian. These patriots are worse that the entire Militia. Can't you see that he is an asset?" Rachel Matheson was close to raising a hand to her daughter. Charlie was stubborn and Rachel had always known that if she were to see Charlie again, forgiveness wouldn't come easy. But she didn't think she would have to fight for it more than Monroe. "Besides Uncle Miles, he is someone I have actually been able to count on!"_

_That was the moment Rachel lashed out. It wasn't incredibly forceful, but Charlie's face had whipped to the side, flooding with resentment. Miles, who had been listening to the fight out of sight, now hurried into the kitchen. He threw Rachel a look before turning to Charlie to see if she was alright._

"_If you kill him, you might as well bomb the whole town. And in my opinion, you become a bigger monster than him," Charlie spoke through gritted teeth._

_Rachel's eyes watered. From her actions, Charlie's words, and the realization that it was almost true. Especially coming from Charlie. She had given Rachel another chance once upon a time. And now that they had a common enemy with Monroe, she had given him the same chance. However, Rachel couldn't see past the man she had lived with for so many years. Their views of him to different, on to great of a scale. She had lost much to him already, and would not sit by and see him take his daughter as well. Her fingertips rubbed the back of the hand she had lashed out with. Hung her head. Turned to the window and let the last bit of sunlight of the day fall on her face. "I'll try," she said against everything she stood for._

That promise was broken, and so, when the people slept, Charlie snuck past the guards. Within minutes, she was leaving Willoughby behind her. Every step carrying her farther away from the body that was buried seven feet below the ground. Not knowing that in the dead of night, someone else would creep out of the house. Make her way towards that body. And begin digging.


	2. Chapter 2

A.N. Just wanted to say sorry for the long wait. Wont happen again. I was out of the country on vacation for a bit. But I can now work on it and I am looking forward to where the story will go. Hope you guys feel the same way. Please let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 2**

"What do you mean gone?!" Rachel exclaimed. She looked from Miles to Gene, and back to Miles. Anger being taken over by worry. "You just let her walk out?" raising her voice. Gene was about to object but Rachel wasn't finished yet. "So I guess I didn't help anyone by keeping the bastard alive."

She had mumbled the last sentenced under her breath but not quite soft enough for Miles and Gene to miss it. The words hung in the room for a while. The air turning thick and the walls seemed to slightly move in on them. "You did what?" Gene yelled. He suddenly looked furious. "Rachel Matheson!" was all he could say after that.

"Dad, Charlie gave her warnings. I tried to listen but I guess I wasn't fast enough," she responded with sorrow in her voice.

"Where is he?" Miles asked.

Not too long after sundown, Miles, Gene and Rachel make their way to an abandoned farm outside of Willoughby. They lower themselves into the room which was built as a twister shelter long ago. Monroe slept on the makeshift bed Rachel had provided him the night before. "Will he be alright?" Miles asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I gave him enough to drop a horse. Make him look dead. He should be waking up any time now," the blonde responded. She could feel Gene's eyes on her. Judging the decision she had made. It was a deep glare. Although on the exterior he looked more concerned, Rachel knew he was angry on the inside. The silence making her feel small. Like she was a child again who had done something so wrong that there was no yelling. No actual punishment. Just the knowledge that he was scolding her on the inside. With harsh words and coming close to breaking point.

The she realised he was partly at fault. "Where were you when Charlie left?" she snapped. Her eyes wide at the unexpected rudeness.

Gene looked firmly into Rachel's eyes. But they only held for a moment. Of course he blames himself as well. All Rachel tried to do was keep Charlie from leaving. From driving an even an even wedge between them. Although he didn't mind laying Sebastian Monroe in a grave, he can't bear the thought of burying his grand-daughter seven feet below the surface. "We have to get her back."

"How? You and I can't leave town. The patriots wouldn't let us go. Miles' hand is badly infected. He can barely carry a tray of food," Rachel spoke. A little hint of panic creeping into her words.

"Why not Bass?" Miles asked from the door frame. He stepped into the hall where Rachel and Gene stood, talking. The look he received from the both of them would have made any other person on the planet coward away. He's a pretty good tracker as well," he paused a moment, testing the waters he was wading through, "Right now, he might be the best person to find her, Rach." There was silence. Miles could feel Rachel weighing her options. But it had all fallen into place already. There was no way around it anymore. Rachel let her eyes fall to the ground in defeat.

It took three days for Sebastian to be able to think straight and for Miles to be sure he could take on anything in his path. Rachel packed some food and a blanket into a duffel bag. A strange silence hung in the atmosphere of the bunker. Miles and Bass shared a look that made Bass even more determined to bring Charlie home. Alive. Whatever it would take. It wasn't much about Charlie, or even being loyal to Miles. It was about one day being able to take down the patriots. And he knew he couldn't do that alone. He wouldn't admit to the fact that he also wanted to be let in with everyone. There was a familiar bond between him and Miles, even if it was slightly broken. And Charlie was a little ball of sunshine in their dark world. He just wanted to stay with them for a while. To keep the mindset that one day he mind possibly feel like he was part of a family again. He pushed the thought away as he realized how naïve the idea sounded. Rachel would break his neck without a doubt. Miles threw a quick arm around his shoulders. "Please get her back," his words continued to echo through Bass' mind while his right foot stepped in front of his left.

**Three days later**

"Where am I even going?" Charlie asked herself. She was used to wondering around but at least she had always done so with a purpose. This time she had none. The only thing that drove her further away from Willoughby was the anger and frustration seeping through her veins. Miles has begun to be the most important person in her life. And she felt a pang of guilt knowing that he is worried and possibly hurt by her actions.

She barely sleeps. Her eyes are heavy; though the worry of every little sound jolts her awake. There was never a moment she had ever thought herself to be invincible. Death was always a risk. However, since Sebastian had been lowered in his grave, it was becoming a harsher reality.

A rustle in the bushes. A snap of a twig. Before she had the knife in her belt fully pulled out of its sheath, a blunt force smacked her across the back of her head. A sudden rush of warm blood was the last thing she felt before the world turned black. As if sleep had hit her body all at once.

_[Charlie's perspective]_

My head hurts. I squint against the light that floods the room. The few things I do see spin slowly. All walls are white, one door faces me, and a window must be located behind me as my shadow falls by my feet. Automatically I want to reach my hand to my head, possibly rub my temple as an attempt to make the blinding headache go away. Only then I realise my hands are bound behind my back and to the metal chair I'm sitting on.

Suddenly the chair feels too cold and the room is too clean with an overpowering smell of something that resembles bleach. Pain fills my body and I can't keep it down any longer. However far the robes allow me I snap myself to the left. The smell of the vomit is nothing compared to the horrific feeling charging through me after emptying my stomach onto the floor.

With creaking hinges, the door in front of me opens. The first thing that enters is a standard Militia issued sniper rifle. I can feel my heart sink. '_The militia doesn't exist. They can't hurt me. They don't need me,' _I tell myself. The words don't help. All I can see when the man walks in is the look in his eyes. His rough posture, the blood stains on his hands, and the large selection of tools in his toolbox go unnoticed to me. Because the only thing that occupies the room is the coldness of his dark eyes. The pits of brown that are so dark it almost looks like his eyes are only pupils. I can't help but feel sick to my stomach. I want to scream for Miles. Hoping he will burst through the door and take me away from the horrifying blood lust entering the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_[Charlie's perspective]_

"Where. Is. Rachel Matherson!" The words are sharp. I can barely comprehend them though. My body screams. As I keep my mouth shut, the leather strap of an old belt lashes against the skin on my back. By the forth lash or so the bright red skin breaks open. Soaking almost perfectly straight lines into the fabric of my t-shirt wherever the belt struck next. I receive a fifth hit. A small amount of blood now also trickles from my lip as I try to keep my screams in. I automatically arch my back away from the impact but I do not want to scream. I can't be weak.

On the seventh hit, a whimper escapes me. My eyes are already stinging with tears. '_I can't give in. I can't give up my family,' _I tell myself. My limbs are numb and I can no longer supress the trembling. _'Stop. Just hold it in.'_

It has been four days. Four days of being asked the same question. Where are Miles and Rachel Matheson? Four days of being tortured as I keep my mouth shut. I don't know how long I can keep it up but all I tell myself is that four days isn't long enough for them to break me. My mind wonders for a moment. And an image of Nora flashes before my eyes. The shape she was in when we got her back. The everlasting scares. The terrible nightmares that plagued her dreams at night.

She had toughed it out for almost a month. Locked up in a dark room. Questioned and tortured until she broke. But that hadn't been done by these United States bounty hunters; that was done by…the thought had to leave. I can't bear to think about it. Bass hadn't done that, Monroe had. When power had made him weak minded. I force the thought away. Tears are already rolling down my cheeks by the memory of Nora. The thoughts are only making it all worse.

_[First person's perspective]_

The first two days had mostly been mental torture. No food, no light, and the knowledge that she was behind bars. The feeling that she was stupid for leaving. And her family is in danger because of her. Bad dreams would string themselves together throughout the night. Charlie woke with sweat on her face. Every muscle ached.

Her dreams had all lead to the same thing. The memory of meeting these guys before. It was a while ago. In a pub somewhere in the middle of Texas. Miles and Rachel had been drinking. They had left Charlie to fend for herself. Not that she had a problem with that. She ordered a beer and sat back on her stool, her spine connecting with the wood of the bar. Letting the sound of the crackling fire drown out the loud chatter in the pub. Her mind wondering randomly. "Have you seen this woman before? Rachel Matheson?" someone across the room asks. Charlie turned her attention to the two men in the doorway, talking to a young woman who was quite intoxicated. On the right stood a tall figure, build to break boulders, hair cut like he used to be a navy seal, and eyes very demeaning. He made eye contact with Charlie. The moment Charlie turned away from his greedy stare; she knew she had given him something.

Whether it was the knowledge that she knew the one he was looking for or everything she has ever buried deep beneath the skin, she wasn't sure. A shudder ran through her body. It took almost a week to forget about the cold stare.

She was taken out of her memory by the screeching of door hinges. It had happened every morning since her capture. Her heart broke into a million pieces as they sank in her chest. She knew what was coming next. Light streamed into the room. Those same cold eyes as that dark evening in the pub, with the same blood lusting stare, peered right at her. "Up," was all Grey said. His name had been dropped by the other guy a few times now.

Moving hurt. However, Charlie bit her lip to keep herself from showing that she was in pain. She wouldn't be weak. She couldn't be. Slowly, she stepped towards the threshold. Dreading what was to come.

While she was shoved towards the white room, the sound of man's even footsteps was almost hypnotizing. As if, although he hadn't been a navy seal in a long time, he still marched; everywhere he went. Leaving an eerie, even echo behind him. _'If these are United States bounty hunters, why don't they know that Rachel and Miles are in Willoughby?' _Charlie thought to herself. The question had been on her mind the moment it was clear the hunters really had no idea. She was sure Truman had called Rachel by her name and knew exactly who she was. Although sharing the uniform with the patriots back in Willoughby, it appeared they did not share all the information with each other. That left Charlie with two possibilities she could think of; the bounty hunters weren't filled in on basic patriot information, or Truman was the one holding out.

When she pulled herself from her thoughts, she found they had made their way to the white room. Except that the room wasn't completely, nauseatingly white anymore. The metal chair was covered in smears of dried blood. And on the floor, a few tiny puddles had formed. A deep and dark red, as if a sign for how crude death was. Charlie felt sick. She couldn't help but imagine what, if they didn't clean the floors throughout someone 'stay', it would have looked like before she got here. Before they had scrubbed it to the core with bleach. She was shoved into the chair.

The second her broken skin touched the chair, she winched. Her wounds had not magically gone away overnight, although she had wished for them to do so. She had barely finished a sharp breath in before Grey lashed out. His hand stinging the side of her face. The taste of rust hung on her lip as the cut from the day before had split again.

"It's a brutal world. People have to take the opportunities they are given. So once again, where is Rachel Matheson?" he asked. His words revealing no sympathy.

"Why don't you ask someone who knows the answer to that?" Charlie retorts. Wrong decision. She was rewarded with another hit across the face. It carried on for a few hours. Every once in a while Grey would leave. As Charlie would let her head fall to her chest, pain rose in every muscle. Her mouth was dry. One of her eyes was swollen and blue. Her lip split. And her spirit low. She had no idea how long she could keep it up. For once she let her mind wonder, to get away from the here and now. Nora came back to her. Her willpower, the strength, and her constant worry for others. Charlie could feel the tiny smile tug at the corners of her mouth by the thought of how badass Nora was. But it faded when she remembered the way Uncle Miles used to look at her. How in love he was with Nora.

Her feet dragged over the concrete. Grey basically dragged her back to her cell. Door hinges creaking. First thing Charlie noticed was the platter of food sitting in the middle of the cell. It was just a jug of water, an old loaf of bread and some cheese that was on the verge of going bad. With the slight shove she received, she fell on her knees in front of the platter. She could barely wait until the door was slammed behind her.

The food tasted horrible. But it was eatable nonetheless. "Charlie?" a voice calls from the dark corner. She whips her head around. Meeting eyes with Monroe send Charlie to a whole new place. Suddenly it felt like it would all be over soon. As if everything would be okay. Just as quickly as the feeling rose in her stomach, it shattered. The look in his eyes said it all. He was just as broken as she was. Charlie was about to say something, but words wouldn't come. There was nothing she could say. The air only felt tighter.


	4. Chapter 4

I won't give you guys another excuse for being so late to update. And I won't tell you that having 11 Rottweiler puppies is a LOT of work...!

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**Chapter 4**

Dead man walking... That was the only thing she could think of. The ghost of Sebastian Monroe was here to take her away from this hellhole. Suddenly, that didn't seem so bad now. But she knew that if she ever did go, it wouldn't be Bass coming to get her. She would be alone. In darkness and alone. She would just go; possibly still fighting. Hopefully fast and painless; unlike the torture methods of the bounty hunters.

They preferred long and slow hours. Where Grey did whatever he wanted, at any speed he desired. And still she kept her mouth shut. All she could do was think of Nora. The way she had stood her ground for at least three weeks. Charlie wanted to make her proud. They only way she could get through it was to think of her, and her brother, her father. All the others who had lost their lives fighting for a better America. Because the patriots sure weren't going to provide that. She let him beat her. What she had earlier mistaken for them breaking her was actually hatred building her to withstand another hit. Slowly turning her bones to stone and her face into an almost permanent glare. But now, her eyes were wide. Frightened and confused. At the same time, she wanted to talk to that ghost. She wanted him to pull out a sword and get them far away from these men. However, the look of his slummed body in the corner, and the way his seemed on the verge of shivering, was enough to make Charlie lose hope quickly.

Her eyes adjusted to the dimly light cell. It was only now she could really see Bass. He looked sick, beaten. As if the world had chewed him up and spit him out. His hair was beginning to get longer; dirty and shaggy curls fall in his face. The 5 o'clock shadow and somewhat maintained scruff Charlie has come to know had noticeably been neglected in perhaps two weeks. The drugs that Rachel had given Monroe were still in the process of flushing out of his system. His eyes were slightly swollen and extremely bloodshot. He barely looked like himself anymore. Her eyes met his for a moment and they seemed to say something to her. _"Don't give me away. I will figure something out. I promise I will get you out of here." _So Charlie choked her words. She slummed against the damp cell wall. Her aching body and heavy eyes gave way to the sleep that suddenly overcame her.

"Get up!" someone snarled as the door opened with a terrible, high-pitched squeak. Charlie tried to disappear in the corner. She wanted to melt together with the molding bricks. But it was too late. The guard's hands were already one her. Her feet were already dragging across the pavement. She caught Bass' concerned look before being taken back to Grey. It was already starting again.

The same questions were asked, just in different ways. A hint of anger was noticeable in Grey's voice this time. The lash from the edge of the belt held the same hint of anger. Charlie could taste the slight flavour of rust in the fresh blood coming from her lip as she bit down, preventing the scream that was stuck in her throat from escaping. As the old wounds hadn't healed yet, new ones were forming. She was sure that if she were to look in a mirror, she wouldn't recognize herself. Cuts and bruises marked her face, she had layers of dirt on her skin and clothes that represented almost two weeks of not changing and washing, and her voice sounded rough and damaged.

Day after day the door opens and the guard drags Charlie away. And Bass grew more concerned about her wellbeing. They use old and new torturing methods. She gets lashes from the belt across her back, they shove her head under water to the point where Charlie feels all air leaving her lungs, she gets mentally attacked, there are injections which simulate the pain of a bullet wound, and after almost two weeks of keeping her mouth shut, Grey pries her mouth open and selects a screwdriver from the metal table beside him. Tears spring in Charlie's eyes and she can't resist the screams anymore. She trashes against her chair and can feel herself begin to lose consciousness from the overwhelming pain as her throat fills with blood.

She wakes suddenly. It takes a moment to remember where she is and for the pain to rush through her entire body. Dried blood lies on her lips and her gums throb so loudly she is sure Bass can hear it as well. For a moment she hated him. She took all the beatings. He on the other hand appeared to be healthier every day. Why they kept him alive Charlie couldn't figure out. What she did know was that she had provided him, together with Miles and Rachel, a death trap. She was the one who had run away. And Bass wasn't even dead; her mother had kept her promise. While Charlie was on the tipping point of giving up their location.

The familiar squeak of the door hinges filled the air. It made Charlie curl into a smaller ball. "It's time to die." It wasn't the other guard this time, but Grey who stood in the doorway. Charlie shot a frantic look at Bass, who was doing math in his head. Seeing the opportunities he had for certain blows and exits there were. He snapped out of it when Grey grabbed him by the shoulder.

"No!" Charlie cried out.

"Why, you know this scumbag?" Grey snapped warningly. Bass spoke loudly with his eyes. His choice had been made the moment he saw the state Charlie came back in every day. He saw Charlie weakly shake her head. He thanked the lord that, for once, she decided not to be her stubborn self.

Charlie could tell her face was swollen. Fear was flooding her body. She couldn't bear the thought that Bass was dead, again. Would they really kill someone like this? Or did they finally figure out who she had been sharing a cell with. The pain, combined with the fear and lack of personal hygiene, caused her to puke up the little amount of food she had in her stomach. For a split second, the sour smell distracted her. She didn't hear the door open as she was almost in a trance as she noticed the blood colour mixed into it.

When the door fell closed, she snapped her head up. There was Monroe; bloody, beaten and barely breathing. He now knew what she had been going through the past two weeks. The torture she has endured every day. The mental and physical pain inflicted on her in every way possible. The only thing that kept him from going completely crazy was knowing that they wanted something from Charlie. If they didn't feel the need to kill him, they certainly wouldn't do that to Charlie. But there was something else he was afraid of.

As Charlie wiped her mouth, she could feel Bass' eyes on her. Observing her more carefully then he had before. "Did they touch you?" he suddenly asked. His voice was soft and caring. The teen shot him a look. _"Have you seen my bruises? Or what about the blood? Of course they touched!" _she thought to herself. It was like Bass read her mind however. "No, I mean, touched you, Charlotte," he said. The use of her full name was somehow different. Months ago, when they had first met, it had been a way for him to control her. A way for him to intimidate the young girl. Back then, it had worked as well. This time however, there was no belittling in it.

She shook her head. Grey wasn't like that. There were the cold eyes which only wanted blood. Brutal hands carved from years of work now enjoyed the sensation of feeling someone lose their breath slowly under his grip. She couldn't stop shaking her head. It was all getting to her. As she sat, shivering and eyes wide from fear and pain, it was all beginning to become too much for her to handle. Since the blackout, she had initially become dependent on the idea of having people around. Danny, her father, Maggie, even Nora had been a big part of her life. One by one they had left her. While she had cried for each, she had also added a mental brick to the wall she was building.

Through the gun fights, the bodies, the mental games, and all the other things that she had been through and seen over the past years or so had strengthened this wall. Charlie Matheson had become a ruthless weapon. Perhaps not all the time, but she had to admit there were moments where her finger could find the trigger and a bullet the target without her even thinking about it. And most of that time, she hadn't cried; just another brick was added instead. Now those same bricks were crumbling. Each was breaking down and falling to the solid earth. It shattered. Her eyes watered and a tear rolled down her cheek. One more barrier broke, and for the first time since Nora passed away, she cried.

The pain was agonizing. Her shoulders hung small and her body was shivering. Sebastian dragged his feet over to her. Hesitantly he opened his arms to her. Charlie fell into them. Half dazed, she remembered the day Maggie had died and the way Miles had wrapped his arms around her. Bass now showed the same protective gesture. She buried her face in his chest. And although he could barely keep back the huff of pain, he let her. He threw his other arm around her and gently stroked her hair.

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Thanks for reading. I apologize for the fact that, although I really liked the content in this chapter, it was hard for me to write well. But chapter 5 will be very good and is on the way. Please let me know what you think.


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